


Snowfall

by ADreamingSongbird



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Tropical Boy Sees Snow For The First Time: What Happens Next Will Not Shock You At All, snamsters (snow hamsters), those detroit days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADreamingSongbird/pseuds/ADreamingSongbird
Summary: Fun fact: Phichit Chulanont is used to heat, humidity, monsoons, and sunshine. Another fun fact: Phichit Chulanont isnotused tosnow.A third fun fact: Yuuri probably isn't ready for this.





	Snowfall

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a part of the Phichit zine, in collaboration with Andy, whose AMAZING art can be found [here](http://blkdiamond-art.tumblr.com/post/177916164171/what-happens-when-phichit-made-of-pure-sunshine)!

Winter is not all that it is chalked up to be, and Phichit, for one, has been sorely cheated. It’s grey and dreary and cold and stupid, and no amount of hot tea in the world can make up for it. The biting wind is his _personal enemy._

And his mug is empty. Great. No more tea and his hands are gonna be cold again. “Yuuri,” he grumbles, pulling a third blanket around himself, “I hate winter.”

Yuuri, who is only wrapped in _one_ (1) blanket and is therefore some kind of superhuman, looks up from his desk, where he’s eating Doritos out of a jumbo-sized bag with chopsticks and pretending to study but actually just watching dog vine compilations. This probably something Phichit would be shaming him for on Snapchat, if his phone wasn’t made of cold metal. “I thought ice skaters could handle the cold?”

Phichit _could_ throw a stuffed animal at him, but it’d require leaving his blanket mound. “Shut up.”

Yuuri laughs softly. “Cheer up, Phichit-kun,” he says. “You’ll be used to it soon. Do you want a Dorito?”

“I hate you,” Phichit sniffs. His nose is runny. They’re _indoors._ His nose should not be runny indoors, because it’s supposed to be warm, but no, Detroit is just a code word for hell. “…What kind?”

“Zesty.”

Phichit frowns. “Aren’t those like, not made in America?”

Yuuri pops another Zesty Dorito into his mouth and nods, chewing and swallowing before he explains, “Souvenir from Skate Canada.”

Well, they’re novelty Doritos now, so Phichit has to eat one. He takes all three blankets with him as he slides off the bed, padding over to Yuuri’s desk and snaking his arm into the bag. “You call a bag of novelty chips a good souvenir?”

Yuuri shrugs and nods.

“That’s fair.”

It’s only when he takes a chip and pops it in his mouth that Phichit notices something moving outside the window that gives him pause, and he narrows his eyes, not sure if…

“What is it?” Yuuri asks, turning to look too.

“Yuuri,” Phichit says, glee rising in his voice. “It’s _snowing._ ”

* * *

 

“I’m going to eat an _entire_ _snowball_.”

Yuuri, struggling to pull his hat on while Phichit hauls him out the door, attempts to protest, “I thought you were cold?”

Phichit stops halfway out the door, disbelief coloring his voice. “ _Yuuri!_ I’m from _Bangkok!_   I have never seen snow in my entire life!  Why would I care about being cold when it’s _snowing?!”_

“Ugh,” Yuuri says, hiding a smile. “Okay. But eating a snowball will be cold too.”

“Who cares? I’ll just make hot chocolate and hog the hot water in the shower for thirty minutes afterwards!” Phichit says breezily, excited like he hasn’t been for something as mundane as weather in _ages._   It’s like when he was a little kid who’d shriek with glee during the first monsoon rains of the year and go dance in the puddles and the downpour with all his cousins, but colder. “Come on, we have to make a snowman!”

Yuuri, heathen that he is, sounds less than impressed. “So you can eat him?”

 _“Yuuri!”_ Phichit gasps, scandalized. “He’s our _friend!_ I would never!”

The elevator opens with a ding, and Phichit all but runs out the door into the parking lot. The snow has barely started to stick on the ground and the cars, but he lets out an excited whoop anyway, immediately sticking his tongue out and attempting to catch a snowflake on it. It’s harder than it looks in the movies.

Yuuri stands under the awning, arms wrapped around himself in his fuzzy parka, and—

“Are you—are you taking bad photos of me?”

“No,” Yuuri says, very innocently, which means he is taking the _worst_ photos, and Phichit has just been standing there and letting him. That won’t do.

Making a snowman has to wait, as does eating a snowball. First, he has to shove snow down the back of his roommate’s shirt.

* * *

 

“I can’t feel my feet,” Phichit wheezes, teeth chattering.

Yuuri peels one, then two, then _three_ pairs of socks off his legs and very primly dumps them in the laundry hamper. “That sounds like a personal problem.”

Phichit stares blankly. “How the hell do your feet fit in your shoes like that?”

Yuuri shrugs and goes back to his Doritos.

* * *

 

It snows for the rest of the day, and then into the night, while Phichit ignores his homework, takes the space heater to the other end of the room, and wraps up in blankets to plop down on the floor by the window and stare out at it, gleeful and wide-eyed. He sends at _least_ thirty snaps to each of his sisters, takes a great selfie against the window that ends up catching a reflection of Yuuri finishing the last of the Doritos with some hot chocolate (ew), and slowly but surely dozes off.

When he wakes, Yuuri is still at his desk, but this time he’s quietly munching some steamed broccoli and watching Khan Academy statistics videos. Phichit stares at him for a moment, then looks out the window. It’s still dark, but the sky is lighter than usual, and it’s still snowing. Is the sky always lighter when it snows?

“What time is it?” he asks blearily.

“Half past one,” Yuuri replies absently, pencil scritch-scritching away at his notebook. “Did your phone die?”

“Mmgh.” Phichit rummages around around in his blankets. “No. I’m sitting on it.”

“I made tea just now,” Yuuri offers. “There’s still hot water in the kettle if you want some.”

Phichit yawns, hauls himself to his feet with a groan, and takes a peek at his snoozing hamsters as he shuffles past, dumping two of his three blankets on the bed as he walks past, grabbing the mug from his desk.  “Tomorrow,” he decides, “let’s build a snowman.”

Yuuri sounds vaguely amused. “You mean you didn’t freeze to death enough today?”

“Yuuri, _please._ ” Phichit shakes his head. “I am a _professional._ ”

(People always did say something about “famous last words”, didn’t they?)

* * *

 

In the morning, everything is covered in a thick, fluffy blanket of pure white. It looks like whipped cream, or soft butter, or fluffy ice cream. Is snow supposed to be so enticing? Because it sure looks like it’s just chanting _come jump on me and also eat me!_ or something like that. Like, something that’d be weird and creepy to put into words but sounds great in one’s head.

Anyway, Phichit pushes the ability to word things in English aside and bounces out of bed to bound over to the window, throwing the curtains open gleefully. From Yuuri’s side of the room, there is a low groan of protest.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” he sings, twirling about and staring out the window, wide-eyed and excited enough that there’s a flutter of butterflies in his stomach. “We have practice in two hours and we have to get over there early enough that we can build a snowman!”

“Mmmnneurgh,” Yuuri groans, which Phichit, who speaks fluent Yuuri, translates into _yes of course, I am so excited_.

It takes about an hour to an hour and a half to haul Yuuri out of bed, make breakfast, get dressed, and get over to the rink, by which time it has snowed a little more, the flakes gently drifting down from the cloudy sky like dandelion fuzz. It crunches when they walk over it on the sidewalks, all packed down from other people’s feet already.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

“This is _so_ pretty,” Phichit gushes, whipping his phone out to take more pictures. It’s still a little hard, even with gloves that work on touchscreens, but it’s well-worth the difficulty! There’s a car that looks like it just got frosted over with fluffy buttercream in the middle of the night, and around the sidewalk, the snow covers the field by the rink in a delightfully soft blanket.

Turning around so he can get the rink behind him in the shot, Phichit holds his arm out, grinning at the camera. “Yuuri, come here!”

Yuuri does not join him, probably still griping about it being a time of day that’s before noon, so Phichit ignores the bit of movement behind him and takes the picture—

_Splat._

“Ah!”

Wet. Cold. Holy _shit._

Yuuri, monster that he is, starts cackling as Phichit stands there in shock, snow melting into his scarf and dripping down his neck. There’s still more on his face and in his hair.

“Hey, snow pro! I hope you got that look on your face in the picture!”

“You are _dead,_ ” Phichit threatens, stuffing his phone into his pocket and bending down to grab a big clump of snow in both hands. “Rest in _pieces,_ Katsuki Yuuri, a man who died to become an ice wraith to meet Viktor Nikoforov in the frozen wasteland of the afterlife, by which I mean Russia— _stop running, you dick!”_

Yuuri does not stop running. It might be wise of him, but he will learn in the end.

Ciao-Ciao arrives just as Phichit is arranging Yuuri into an artful pose, back to their snowman and the snamsters (snow hamsters) as he holds his newly-acquired Starbucks cup and faces the sky. It has to have the right amount of drama for this photoshoot, and steaming coffee does just the trick.

He sounds amused, boots crunching in the snow as he approaches. “What happened here?”

“Phichit and I decided to start a family,” Yuuri says very dryly, blowing on the coffee. “Did you take the picture yet? I wanna drink this already.”

Phichit sticks out his tongue. “Well, if you’d hold _still,_ I could do it already!”

“Ugh, okay!”

Click. Click again, to be sure there’s a good one, somewhere in the mix.

Yuuri whips around, suddenly, his eyes going wide. “Wait—Coach, did you bring the puppy today?”

“Oh my god,” Phichit realizes, gasping. “We made a snow-doggy! Coach, she’s here, right?”

“Of course,” Ciao-Ciao says. “She’s still in the car because she was cold. You can get her out if you want to try.”

Yuuri’s lower lip wobbles. “Well… but if she’s cold…”

Phichit, who is weak but not _that_ weak, marches over to Ciao-Ciao’s car and taps on the window. The world's cutest puppy, who is curled up under a blanket on the front seat, perks up at the sight of him, sitting and wagging her tail. That seems like a good sign, so Phichit opens the door. “Hi! Oh, it's the best girl!”

Ciao-Ciao's adorable little dog, the most opinionated Maltese ever, bounds up to plant her paws on his chest and licks at his face, and he laughs, stumbling back. She follows eagerly as he closes the door again and leads her over to Yuuri, who wordlessly shoves his coffee at Phichit and falls to his knees in the snow to kiss her head.

“Look,” Phichit says to Ciao-Ciao, pointing at the Snuppo (snow puppo) next to the snamsters (snow hamsters). “Dog… and snog.”

Ciao-Ciao’s face clearly says that he doesn’t quite get it, but he nods sagely. “Dog and snog.”

Phichit grins.


End file.
